


Every Note (Was Just a Proper One)

by belial



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belial/pseuds/belial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out innocuously – being paired up with Peter because they’re both talented researchers – but it grew to sharing meals and movies and in-jokes. He didn’t realize he was in love until the night they found the piano.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Note (Was Just a Proper One)

It started out innocuously – being paired up with Peter because they’re both talented researchers – but it grew to sharing meals and movies and in-jokes. He didn’t realize he was in love until the night they found the piano.

Derek and Scott were in the back of the Beacon Hills Cultural Center killing the latest ‘creepy thing of the week’, leaving Erica and Boyd to worry about clean up and Stiles… well, Stiles slunk into the small theater, casting his eyes vaguely around for anything else that bumped in the night.

When he saw Peter up on the stage, he almost made a joke about night creatures, until he saw the look on Peter’s face. The older werewolf circled the old Steinway, fingers ghosting over the black lacquered music rack and fall. “Peter?”

Peter looked up, dazed. “This was mine,” he said. 

Stiles joined him on the stage. He approached Peter and sat next to him on the piano bench, wondering when he stopped being terrified of the wolf and when the strange warmth started growing between them. “What do you mean?”

Peter gestured to the music stand again. Stiles noticed the slight wear around the top in the shape of, “are those claw marks?”

The werewolf nodded and gazed away from the piano, away from Stiles. “When Laura was little, she’d stand on the bench next to me and turn the pages for me when I played. She used to get so entranced by the music that her claws would come out and gouge the sheets and the woodworking. I’d wondered if this burned like everything else in the fire – I guess now I know.”

Stiles, so used to coming back with a snappy remark or jab, finally responded with, “Play something for me.”

Peter twisted on the bench, looked at the teenager next to him with startled surprise. “What?”

“Play something for me,” Stiles repeated. “Anything. Twinkle, Twinkle, if it’s all you remember. Just… play.”

Peter paused, then gave Stiles a half-smile. “I haven’t played in ten years, you know.”

When Stiles didn’t reply, Peter lifted the fall covering the keys and ran the scale. “Someone’s been playing; it’s in tune.”

And then, gently, he touched a single key, waiting for the clear G note to ring. The rest of his fingers lined up in start position, caressing the notes out of each key, each soft sound a heartbeat in the otherwise empty theater.

Stiles watched, enraptured, as Peter closed his eyes and sang, “You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh…”

The piano and melody held each other, and Stiles watched the years melt away from Peter’s face; no pain and suffering, no fire, no madness touched him. He lost himself in the music, playing with passion and grace and… and _delicacy_ , and Stiles felt something pull in his chest as the song came to an end.

“That was amazing,” he said, when Peter let the last note run out. “I had no idea you could do that.”

Peter didn’t look at him, kept staring at the piano like it held the secrets to the universe. “I used to play that for my wife and girls at bedtime. I haven’t wanted to play for anyone since… since that night. Playing made me different.”

“Human?”

“Weak,” Peter corrected. He tried to pull off a smirk and failed by a mile. “You can’t avenge your dead loved ones if you’re bleeding because of them.”

“What about now?”

Peter turned to Stiles, and slipped back into his sarcastic mask. “What does it matter? Honestly, Stiles, one would think you’d have better things to do tonight than…”

Stiles cut him off by pressing his mouth to Peter’s, moving so suddenly that not even the werewolf could react in time to stop it. Kissing Peter was like kissing a plank of wood; and just when Stiles thought he’d gone over the line, he felt strong arms wrap around him and haul him closer. 

“Why?” was whispered into his mouth, as Peter kissed him over and over. “What made you…?”

“Things have been changing between us for a while,” Stiles replied. “I know I’m not the only one who’s been different. Or was that someone else who challenged me to Canasta last week during lunch?”

Peter cupped Stiles’ face in his hands, kissed his nose. “That might’ve been me.”

Stiles laughed, stretched up eagerly for more kisses. “I turn eighteen soon, you know.”

“Mmm. Three months, six days, a handful of hours.”

“Creeper,” Stiles chastised, but the word held fondness above anything else. “I want this with you.”

“Kissing?”

“Everything.”

Peter grinned, the wide smile he hid from the rest of the world and only let out once in a long while. “Everything,” he repeated. “That sounds agreeable.”

“Really? That’s the BEST word you can find? Surely you can do better.”

Peter’s smile faded from something blinding to something sweet. “Give me time, Stiles. I’m sure I’ll find the perfect word for this.” 

Stiles nodded. Peter was willing to try, and that was good enough for him.

~FIN~

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the fandom, characters, etc. I make no profit from this. 
> 
> Notes: This is an alternate universe after the middle of season 2. Somehow I was attacked by a fluff-induced bunny and it demanded to be written. They are both a little OOC (out of character), but frankly I don’t give a damn. :)


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